


Winterlong

by acchikocchi



Category: Tatta Hitotsu no Koi
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-12
Updated: 2007-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acchikocchi/pseuds/acchikocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="http://winterspel.livejournal.com">winterspel</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Winterlong

**Author's Note:**

> For [winterspel](http://winterspel.livejournal.com).

Hiroto woke from a dream just slipping away; half-asleep, he tried to hold on to it and could only catch fragments of twinkling lights in the darkness before the memory slipped out of reach.

His head throbbed dully and Hiroto groaned and flung an arm over his eyes. The company's end-of-the-year party had been the night before, and he'd drunk a little more than he'd intended to: he had a fuzzy-edged memory of helping one of the other men bundle Sekine-kun into a taxi and walking home in the bitter night air, and little else.

He spared a sympathetic thought for Sekine-kun's girlfriend. Sekine was a hard worker, and a cheerful one, but incurably happy-go-lucky and a playful, forgetful drunk. They'd put him in a taxi because the one time they'd sent him home on his own he'd gone to the wrong apartment building, and gone from apartment to apartment asking if anyone wanted to go to a bar until someone called the police, and in the end Hiroto and Kawaguchi had had to pick him up from the station.

Hiroto had met the girlfriend once, a nice girl with a roundish face and undyed hair. "Sorry for the trouble he's caused," she'd said with a fond, exasperated smile. "He's too friendly for his own good." She'd looked over at Sekine then and Hiroto had felt embarrassed to see her face.

With another groan Hiroto slid out from his futon and carefully folded it away before dressing quickly to avoid the bite of the chill morning.

Out at the low table in the main room, Ren was eating breakfast and scribbling away in a thin notebook.

"'Morning," Hiroto said, helping himself to a cup of tea from the steaming pot in the kitchen.

"'Morning, nii-chan," Ren answered, cheerful but distracted, without looking up.

Hiroto raised an eyebrow. "Put off your homework, huh?" He went over to lean over Ren's shoulder and pointed at a math problem at random. "I think that's wrong."

"What?" Ren said, dropping his pencil. "But I checked – _nii-chan!_ " he complained as Hiroto laughed. "Stupid!" He grabbed his pencil again and went back to work, hunched shoulders radiating indignation. Hiroto scooped himself a bowl of rice from the cooker and dropped to the floor across from Ren, munching in silence.

Ren sat back with a satisfied sigh just as Hiroto was chasing down the last grains of rich. He patted the pages of his notebook with an air of accomplishment and swept up the stray bits of eraser into a little pile, brushing them carefully off the table into his hand.

"Is she still asleep?" Hiroto asked with a jerk of his head toward their mother's bedroom as Ren carried the small handful over to the trash. The department store had been putting her on later shifts recently, for the holiday season.

Ren nodded. "She came home pretty late last night. But not as late as you," he said pointedly.

"Shouldn't the question be why you were still awake?" Hiroto countered. "Even though both of us have to get up early." He glanced at his watch, rose, and took his bowl over to the sink for a quick rinse. "Speaking of which, time to go." He ruffled Ren's hair thoroughly as he passed by on the way to the entryway, ignoring Ren's protest of "Nii-chan, I'm too old for that now."

"You're still younger than me," Hiroto said, tugging on his boots. "I'm going now."

"Come back safe," he heard Ren call as the door shut behind him.

The clear sky was a brilliant shade of blue, but the weather was unusually cold for December; Hiroto zipped his jacket up to the chin and buried his hands in his pockets. Inside the black and white knit mittens, his fingers curled into his palms.

It was Christmas Eve.

***

The temperature stayed low all morning. When the lunch whistle blew, most of the shipyard employees crowded inside the warehouse. Hiroto, rubbing briskly at his arms, stepped outside and pulled out his cell phone.

There was a mail from Ayuta: _Sorry, can't make it tonight – last-minute date after all. Tell your mother and Ren-kun I'm sorry? Later._

Hiroto let out a huff of laughter. Ayuta could act casual but he'd broken up with his girlfriend of several months in November and had been quietly brooding ever since. Ren, who had decided their family dinner was going to be called a party, had coaxed Hiroto into inviting him for Christmas Eve, but it looked like he'd found a more attractive alternative.

 _Got it. Have fun._ He sent the message quickly, and then, as he was turning to go inside, caught sight of the Ferris wheel across the bay.

Without warning, an image of twinkling lights reflected in the dark waters of the bay rose before his eyes. Suddenly and vividly, Hiroto remembered what he had dreamt of.

***

The afternoon seemed to stretch longer than usual. Hiroto hurried home, barely sparing a glance for the lighted displays and beautifully lettered advertisements reminding him of the date. He was already reaching for his cell phone as he toed off his shoes and closed the front door.

The other end of the line rang once. Again. Again -

"Hiroto," she said with a contented sigh.

The smile in her voice brought an answering smile to his lips. "Happy birthday," he said.

They didn't talk every night - maybe three or four times a week. Even so there was only so much he could say - work didn't vary much from day to day – but she was always full of stories about the children at her school, or her adventures living alone for the first time, or Hokkaido and the snow and the sky and the open spaces.

"Sounds like you want to stay there," Hiroto had teased once.

"No! No," she'd said in a voice both soft and resolute, "I'm definitely coming back to Yokohama."

They traded bits of news about Ayuta and Yuko and Kou and his new daughter, and their families - she always wanted to hear about Ren's baseball games, and sometimes if Ren was home and didn't seem too busy Hiroto handed the phone over for a while. Today, though, Ren was at baseball practice and Hiroto didn't want to share.

"Does Ren have a date tonight?" she asked instead, already laughing.

Hiroto snorted softly. "Ren's too young for Christmas dates."

She giggled. "Yuko and I used to say that if we didn't have Christmas dates by the time we were twenty we wouldn't be real adults." Her voice quieted. "That was just before that time, wasn't it."

"Sorry I can’t be your date this year," he murmured.

"It's fine," she said cheerfully. "Some of the teachers are buying a cake and having a party by ourselves, no men allowed."

He laughed slightly. "Good."

"I'm sending you something," she said, her voice going soft, "so watch out for it."

Hiroto thought of the neatly wrapped package heading north already. "Yeah," he murmured, "you, too."

There was a commotion in the background. "Oh," she said, startled, "I have to go, I'm sorry it's so early – "

They said their goodbyes reluctantly and hung up. With no cleaning or cooking to distract himself with, he let himself out on the balcony and lit a cigarette, smoking until his hands went numb and the cold drove him inside.

***

Hiroto's mother brought home a fluffy white cake covered with strawberries and enough fried chicken for four. When Hiroto told her that Ayuta couldn't make it after all, she shrugged philosophically and said, "It'll make a treat later."

"We'll save him a piece of cake," said Ren firmly.

Ren seemed just as happy with their "party" consisting solely of family, so Hiroto shrugged to himself and tucked into his serving. Ren might be a little older, but in some ways he was still making up for the years before things had changed.

After the small feast was over and a piece of cake far too large for Ayuta alone to finish had been set aside, Hiroto and his mother cleaned up while Ren, wrinkling his nose, started his homework. His mother switched on the television once they were finished, but Hiroto was unusually restless; he circled the small apartment, flicking at imaginary dust motes and straightening picture frames until even Ren looked up from his books.

"Sorry," Hiroto said guiltily, "I'll stop making such a racket – "

The doorbell rang. "I'll get it," he said quickly. Ren and his mother were both looking up with the air of a pair of hounds who had caught the scent of a trail. He laughed at them as he made his way to the entryway, rubbing his arms in anticipation of the blast of cold air. "What, are you two expecting someone?" he said over his shoulder, and opened the door.

He only had time to stare, unbelieving, for one frozen moment before there was a rush of air and a sudden weight against him, warm arms around him. He stumbled backward, wrapped his arms around her almost unconsciously, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

The scent of her hair, her small hands clutching his shirt, the curve of her mouth tucked against his neck: he was overwhelmed. He pressed her close, closed his eyes, breathed deeply.

Until –

"Nii-chan, it's cold!" Ren's voice called from the other room.

"Shut up," he said into her hair. She giggled, stirring in the circle of his arms, and he reluctantly released her to close the door. Then he turned around and really looked at her, for the first time.

Her hair was pulled back, her cheeks red with cold and her wide eyes bright. As always, she was smiling.

He took a step forward, reached up and cupped her face with one hand and brushed a thumb over the arch of her cheekbone.

"Cold?" he murmured.

She shook her head. "Absolutely fine." The smile was in her voice again, but now he could see it lighting her face, curving her eyes. He was smiling helplessly back, he knew, as he brought his other hand up to cradle her face and leaned down.

He never wanted to pull away. When at last they drew apart, her smile was tremulous, and she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder again. One arm went around her waist, one up to stroke her hair. Close against him, he could feel her chest rise and fall with the rhythm of her breathing, and Hiroto thought that maybe his heart would burst.

Fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently. He bent his head.

"Merry Christmas," Nao said in his ear.


End file.
